


For Someone You Love

by DestructiveEmpathy, Neth_Smiley



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-02-19 12:05:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13123368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestructiveEmpathy/pseuds/DestructiveEmpathy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neth_Smiley/pseuds/Neth_Smiley
Summary: An ongoing series between me and my roleplay partner DestructiveEmpathy on Tumblr.Please note this is originally a roleplay (RP) that has been organized into chapters, but will read in a clear roleplay format.





	1. With A Hook In Their Mouth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DestructiveEmpathy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestructiveEmpathy/gifts).



The trial between Lex Bourbon and the state had not gone well today. Jonathan Spencer Tylan, the timid, dingy, one-eyed key witness, was singing to himself half the time, and had been on the verge of saying something, as usual, that could put the man he accused behind bars, then backed off, like a wild animal from a pit they could smell the human and metal on. The trick, one supposed, was getting the reward tantalizing enough that he could retrieve the memories, but nobody had found it yet. He was sitting in the empty courtroom now, as the policewoman who was looking after him, Moira Tanner, had had to go back to the station, but if he needed a ride home he only need press a series of buttons on the phone she’d given him.  
The courtroom was still, which helped–there were no faces, no sounds, no colors, and no Lex. The women who loved Lex, they would have gone home now, right? They wore t-shirts stained with blood, carried his face, threw Lex soft funny garments and jewelry–lucky charms, to keep him safe? He had no idea, but he knew that people booed him when he had come out alone, and had been catcalled a few times. Even in the free paper he got, it referred to him as retarded, and that hurt. 

Jack Crawford had insisted that Will Graham attend the Lex Bourbon case. He’d been obsessed with figuring out the connections between this man and the Chesapeake Ripper. Will didn’t see any of the Ripper’s handprints on the casefiles but Jack was right. If there was any chance they were connected, the Ripper might get caught and Mr Bourbon could get the punishment he deserved.  
Will had sat in the courtroom for only half of the shitshow, watching as the overpaid lawyer crucified a genuinely terrified young man. He wanted to stand and give his say, but Will wasn’t anything to this case except a voyeur on another man’s request. He might have even been considered biased since his own experience in a courtroom.  
He stood when the lawyer played the usual, ‘Why didn’t you leave when you knew?’ cards. It was the that exact question that had killed many many young men and women in abusive relationships.  
He distinctly remembered arresting an abuser - Holburn Jameson - who had left his pregnant girlfriend blind. During the court case, the lawyer had torn the girlfriend apart. She had broken down and rescinded her evidence. The case was dropped and three days later, they found the poor girl had been kicked to death. The baby didn’t make it.  
Will was sat in his car rewatching both cases in his mind when his phone rang. “Jack?”  
“We’ve got a chance to get in close to this case. Officer Tanner’s offered to get the case handed over to us if we get a babysitter for the witness.” Jack had had no intention of pressing the police for the case, but now it was offered, he was glad to accept it.  
“And I guess you want me to babysit?”  
“You know people, Will. You may not like them, but you read them damn well. And some people even like to open up to you. So just go find Tylan and flash your badge. Look after him and he’ll look after us.”  
Will sighed as the phone hung up. Jack always pressed for more. More than Will could handle. But if Will had a chance at stopping Bourbon from reenacting the Jameson case, he had to try.  
“Mr Tylan?” Will entered the still courtroom, approaching with a great care so he didn’t startle him.  


* * *

_“Mr. Tylan?”_  
At the soft sound, Jonathan stiffened, then relaxed, raising his head to see the handsome, roughshod features of another man across the room. He could smell him, smell travel deodorant and alcohol and something heavy and dry, like musty shelves that bit the nostrils as you breathed it in. His head twisted to get a better look at the grey-hued man, this man with his owlish glasses that gave him the appearance of something slightly alien, cold.  
With his eye missing, Jonathan was obliged to look at the man sideways. Why was he here? He didn’t look like a policeman–a juror? One of Lex’s fans? He began to scoot back into the witness box, shaking. There was nowhere to run or hide, especially with his mangled body, his leg, his face–crawling in the dust would infect him, put him in the hospital again; and running would immediately make him look even more guilty.  
As though he could escape from this man, this man who moved like a cowhorse–careful, searching, investigative and intuitive and totally dedicated to his work. Jonathan’s voice was hoarse from talking all day, but he’d gotten a little water from Miss Tanner. He gulped once, twice.  
“Here, sir.” he said, fiddling with his hands in his lap. “Wh-who sent you?”

Will could see how Jonathan trembled in his seat. The way he looked at him was heartbreaking. Someone had hurt him, the scars plain to see.  
Will stopped halfway, between the witness box and the seats for the attorneys. “I’m Will Graham of the FBI.” He offered a caring smile in the hopes he’d open up to him a little. Men like the two of them weren’t fond of trusting strangers, though.  
He pulled his temporary field badge out to show Jonathan. “See?” He offered it to him to let him check and feel it for proof.  
Jonathan took it up with delicate fingers, stroking the badge gently. “You know my name. Why do the FBI want me? I was kidnapped, yes, kind of…did I do something bad, too? I ran, and I was afraid, but I tried to be good. Do you know the people in the stories, on TV? I watch them every week, it’s nice…” he handed the badge back. “It’s really beautiful, your badge, too. I like that the eagle’s facing towards peace. They say there’s a rug in the White House for when we’re at war and when we’re at peace. What do you think they did during the Cold War?”  
Will frowned and stepped closer as he took the badge back from him. Tylan’s wandering mind strayed from one topic to another. He was either nervous or had an attention deficiency. It made sense for it be the former.  
“I wouldn’t know, exactly. But considering how many meetings with the Soviet leaders they had in that room, I believe they would have to have kept it at peace.” He climbed up the little steps closer as he reached the pedestal. “Show a desire for peace and hide your need for violence. It’s the way all politicians work.”  
Will leaned against the witness box and observed how Tylan moved and even breathed. He could see a victim from a mile off. Prey took a small space in the darkest corners of the room.  
Jonathan nodded at the part about the Soviets. “P-politicians…l-l-lawyers too? Lie?” he didn’t dare mention Lex, because Lex would know what he said to this man, who’d no doubt tell him everything, tell everybody. But the lawyer was cruel, he made fun and asked questions that scared him, said he was crazy, and he wasn’t crazy, but that was true, wasn’t that? The man…Will, yes, Will, he was lying against the witness box, and Jonathan was shuddering as though he was very cold (was there a window open?) and if only he’d been good then he wouldn’t be here, if he’d just done it right, and he was so hungry now, hungry…

Will could see how Tylan was struggling to open up to him, but with what he’d asked, it made complete sense. “Lawyers are just people. Politicians are, too. People who take those positions are the types driven by the allure of power, competition and - above all - winning. So, it’s hard to trust anyone out for themselves.”  
“How about we go for a walk to the cafe nearby?” Will knew that going anywhere together meant prying eyes, but it was better than the battlefield that had left Tylan maimed.

“A walk to the cafe.” Jonathan repeated, nodding. “The women outside, they aren’t going to be angry?” They yelled so much at him, and when he tried to go online during break, people were angry there too. He identified, in secret, with these angry men, because those women outside, they hadn’t gone through what he had. They hadn’t been scared and alone all this time, they hadn’t been broken and scarred for pure whimsy, they…they were not correct.  
He suddenly got the feeling something very large and cruel was behind him, wanting to bat and toy with him as a cat does a bird or lizard that can’t get away, and if he let go of anything solid he’d be swept away, drowned, burned, forgotten save for a back thread or two or a video on the castration of men at large, et cetera ad nauseum. Reaching out, he nodded, and grasped Will’s hand, as though Will was rescuing him, pulling him out from a sea of nightmares he could not afford to go under in one more time.

“Everyone from the case has probably gone home by now. Even Bourbon has been transported back to the hospital.” The feeling of fear and paranoia echoed off of the court’s stone walls. Will remembered the feeling well. All of those jeering crowds and mocking shouts. Even Will had some ‘admirers’ when they’d believed he was the copycat. It was sick.  
Will flinched at the sudden touch, unused to people willingly seeking him as an anchor. He was so used to being the one to ask for comfort, or offering false hope that this was an entirely new feeling. Even Abigail had turned to Hannibal before she had ever turned to Will.  
Running his thumb across Jonathan’s hand, he urged him to his feet and out of the witness box. He wanted to tell him that he’d feel more human after food, but Will knew that would have been a lie. Instead he settled on an open silence, allowing Jonathan to open up at his own pace. There was no rush today.  
“It’s not far,” he said as he led the way out of the court.

“Wh-why’d he go to the hospital?” Jonathan peeped. “I d-d-d-didn’t hurt him!” his voice cracked, like he was going to cry. “I couldn’t hurt him, not that badly. I kicked him once in the shin, and hit him w-with my stuffy. That couldn’t have hurt him, right?” he always was hurting Lex, that’s what Lex had told him, and he’d messed up so very bad this time.  
“You’re nice, Mr. Agent.” he said thoughtfully. “Thank you for visiting.”

“We call it the hospital. It’s the BSHCI. Dr Chilton, there would like to study him for the case. To make sure he fit the psychological profile suited to the crimes he committed.” Will clasped Jonathan’s shoulder. “You haven’t hurt him at all.”  
“Is Doctor Chilton the mean doctor?” Jonathan asked. “The one I met, he has a face like a ferret, or Mephistopheles.” he said the demon’s name _Mesiffoffosolese_ , as though he’d read it but not said it. “He showed me a cell and said that it would be fine, as long as I was good and I didn’t lie in the trial. He asked me if I was going to be good for him, and I said uh-huh, and I got in trouble ‘cause that’s not using the right words. I nodded and he yelled and I put my hands…” he hovered them quickly over his ears, protecting and fearful, before returning his hand to Will, “here. And then he hit them and said they were bad hands, and did I want to be bad…” he looked up at Will.

“I don’t want to be a bad boy.”

Will shook his head and bit his lip as he tried to forced himself to make eye contact with Jonathan. No small feat when Will could feel the agony and terror permeating from him in waves.  
“Doctor Chilton gets results.” He wasn’t going to try defame Fredrick’s character while trying to console someone who was obviously extremely nervous already. After all, while Will himself had a terrible experience with Chilton, it was not unlikely Jonathan had encountered any number of psychiatrists. There were only two he’d met so far that he found even remotely tolerable.  
“If a psychiatrist is ever bad to you, you reserve the right to tell someone. Right now, that person is me. Tell me if anyone is cruel to you or calls you bad or makes you do anything - _anything_ \- you don’t want to. In the meantime I’ll get you an appointment with a doctor who’ll treat you well. Would you like that?”  
“He said I was broken, an’ we were gonna work together to change me. That’s a good idea, isn’t it?” he looked back into Will’s eyes–a full foot higher than his eyes had traveled in some time–keeping contact for a few seconds, a few longer, then dropping back to their shoes. Graham’s, heavy and sensible, Jonathan’s, oversize tassel loafers stuffed with newspaper. “I promise I’ll tell you anything you want to know. And I’d like to meet a nice doctor, too, if they’d show me how to say the statement right.”  
“You’re broken, but men like that do more damage than good. And this new psychiatrist I know is a friend. I’m sure he’ll help you with your statement if you ask.” Will turned to lead the way into the coffee shop. The street was hot as the sun reflected off of the concrete street.  
“Are there any books you’d like? I know where they’re keeping you is a little sparse.” Will held the cafe door open for him.  
“You’d get books for me?” Jonathan asked, a little surprised, eye squinted shut against the glare of the afternoon sun as they stepped inside. “I miss books. I was a librarian, you know. Before all of this. Well, I was training to be one. I was going to be good, I knew all the best places. I actually was buyin’ books, when I met Him.” another nervous turning of the pendant on his necklace as his voice began to muddle. “Do you like books, too?”  
“Ah…” Will suddenly fell silent as he led them to a table. “Books are a getaway from the monsters like Him.” They were Will’s getaway from work, the monsters, the viscera and from Hannibal’s machinations. Will touched Jonathan’s elbow, guiding him to be seated. “My personal favourite is David Copperfield,” he said, offering an olive branch. Perhaps if Jonathan could see him opening up, it would be easier for him to in return.  
“I don’t have a favorite–I like a lot of books.” Jonathan was opening up more, excited to find somebody who understood how you could hide in books, not have to think, just be there, warm and protected and safe again. “Why’s Copperfield your favorite?”  
“I- you know, I’m not really sure. I suppose I relate to his early childhood in some way.” Will shrugged and looked at the menu board. “What would you like?” He decided that he’d have a black coffee and nothing more. He really wasn’t hungry after witnessing the court incident.  
“Would it be okay if I had a scone? J-just a little one?” Jonathan asked shyly. “I…you know what, no. Water for me. I don’t want the court to think I’m too emotional. They already think that…” he hunched lower in the chair, eyes darting around the shop suspiciously.  
“Um.” Will nodded before approaching the counter. When he next appeared, he carried a tray with a scone, a glass of water and two coffees. He set the tray down and sat opposite Jonathan with a smile. The kid needed meat on his bones. And Will always got generous when he got mad.

Jonathan looked confused, then reached for the scone and the coffee and the water as quickly as he could. “Is it for me? Can I eat it?”  
If Will nodded, then he would eat as though it was the last food on earth, tearing it to pieces. Best to eat quickly, else people would see and call him fat, gluttonous, greedy.  
Will pulled a mug of coffee over to himself and put a sachet of sugar in. “Mmhmm. I don’t eat scones.” Will stirred his drink and licked the little spoon.  
The rumble of people in the cafe was different to the memories of pain echoing through the empty courtroom. He could happily sit here for hours as long as no one spoke to him.  
He watched Jonathan with the scone and tried to imagine how his torturer had hurt him. It wasn’t hard to see.  
Jonathan had wanted to eat the scone as fast as he could, but now that Will had mentioned he didn’t eat scones, he decided to stay away from it as long as he could. It would be very rude to eat so much, after all. And if he was fat, then nobody would ever believe anything he had on the rest of his body, the awful scars Lex had carved out of him inside and out.  
Will sipped his coffee as slowly as humanly possible as he watched Jonathan. He just wanted the kid to eat. Seeing his hesitation was painful. Maybe Jonathan would realise Will didn’t care about the food if he took the focus away from it. “Have you ever been to New Orleans, Jonathan?”  
“No. Never.” Jonathan shook his head. “We didn’t travel much when I was a kid, and then I didn’t have money during college. We moved once, my brother and I, after my parents passed away.” the bad accident counted as passing away. It had to.  
“Maybe after all of this, the FBI will let me show you New Orleans.” Will didn’t feel comfortable offering a trip without good reason, but giving Jonathan a reason to make it through the trial couldn’t hurt. And, of course he’d have to clear it with the FBI. After all of this, Jonathan would probably be in their care for a long time. 

 

“What’s it like there? I remember there was Katrina. And that they have Carnival. But I don’t know anything else about it–oh! And it’s below sea level! And kind of s-swampy, right?!” his foot, the good one, wove and danced under the table in nervous excitement until he got it properly wrapped around the chair again.  
“The Mardis Gras… and the Bayou.” Will leaned closer as if he was truly enjoying talking about the home of his past. “It’s hot, humid. And in storm season it’s wild. I love the smell of new rain breaking through the heat.”  
The memory of his childhood was painful, though.  
“Not sure if I like humid days. Maybe if you could go swimming, that’s nice.” Jonathan looked as though he was slowly uncoiling from his shell, eyes meeting Will’s. “I like rain. Do you?”  
“Nature’s never better than when the rain cuts through the air.” Will licked his drying lips and sat back. “The way it smells in heat, the way it sounds against the leaves and lakes. The way it feels on my face. It’s the lifegiver.” 

“what’s it smell like in heat? Do you want some water? You can have my water, if you’d like.” Jonathan leaned forwards. “I’ll pay you back for all this. I promise.”  
“I’m fine, thanks.” Will shook his head and finished his coffee. “It smells of itself. You cannot describe rain hitting hot air and concrete. Not really.” 

“Sharp and metallic.” Jonathan said. “Whispering, touching, bright and baffling as you stand beneath the skies.”  
“I find it earthier. Musky and warm as it hits your lungs. Flooding them with the bitter taste of the storm season.” Will kept his eyes on the rim of his mug as he stroked it with his fingers. He could see the barest hint of a crack in the clay.  
“Why did the FBI want you to talk to me?” Jonathan asked. “I’m nobody, begging your pardon, sir. They say I was hurt, and I know he hurt me, but…do you think I deserved it? Lex says I did, says I liked it”

Will leaned back in the chair and shook his head. “No one can tell you what you like or don’t. I can’t say, and that… man couldn’t ever say. But I know you never deserved what he’s done to you. No one would.”  
Jonathan nodded, eye starting to droop closed. The food made him relax, [i]blood rushes to your stomach, ‘way from your head, yes.[/i]  
“Come on. I’ll drive you back to the House.” Will took their plate and mugs to the counter, thinking about the state of the safehouse. 

“Will you bring books?” Jonathan asked, voice breaking slightly. He trotted after Will. “D-do you know what happens tomorrow? In the trial?” he trotted after Will, head down and eyes shut. “Will you help me write down what to say?”

“I don’t have the books with me.” Will got the court parking lot and unlocked his car. He knew how Jack would react when he found out he personally drove Jonathan to the safehouse, but he wasn’t going to leave the poor kid in a strange place. 

“In the trial they’ll bring out pictures and videos of the evidence for the judge and jury. Then the witnesses for the defense will be cross questioned.” Will climbed into the car and tipped his head to Jonathan. “It might be a little… Sure. Of course I will.” He bit his tongue and rolled his eyes. What was he doing? If he meddled with this he could be seen as compromising the case. 

“Can I get in the car, please?” Jonathan asked. It was early evening now, and he didn’t want to be outside any more. It was big, with a lot of noises and people, and constant decisions to make and things to remember. Will seemed to understand that, though. He only said one thing at a time, and all very sensible, even things. 

“Am I a witness for the defense too? Or are they the people who know Lex but aren’t me?”

“Of course you can.” Will started the car engine. “How else are you meant to carpool with me?” He offered a smile and tried not to show his concern. “Hopefully they won’t call you up. But just tell the truth. No one can fault you for that. And if you panic, look at me. Focus on me.” 

Jonathan climbed in, nodding. “You’re even nicer than Miz Tanner.” he said, slipping back into little-kid speech. “Miz Tanner’s nice, but she’s AWFUL busy. An’ sometimes, you know, she doesn’t always understand what I’m saying.”

“Well, with me, Ms Tanner and Han- Doctor Lecter, we’ll all help you get through this.” Will checked if Jonathan had put on his seatbelt before he drove them to the safehouse. “It might feel like the end of the world, right now, but I promise you that I will make sure you are safe.” He glanced over. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do!” Jonathan added, as quickly as he could. “You’re a poli–an FBI agent! Who wouldn’t trust you?”

“You don’t have to trust me. But I’m grateful you do,” Will said, clearly ensuring his words were the right ones. Jonathan had gone through too much to start doubting Will’s integrity. They needed a unified front if any of them were going to get Lex put down. It would be the death penalty for that prick.  
Will stayed in silence for a small while as he drove. At a crossing, he glanced over at Jonathan and took in the poor kid’s appearance. Gaunt from starvation. Trembling from nerves. “I can’t say I know how it feels, but I can imagine. You survived so much, a little court case can’t beat you, Jonathan.” 

Jonathan smiled, more than Will had seen so far. “A little court case? It seems like a great big court case, but you’ve probably seen a lot of them, haven’t you?” he fidgeted a bit, then settled back into the seat, playing with a strand of his dark curly hair. 

“Mr. Will?” Jonathan asked, eventually, voice trembling slightly. His face was soft and shy-scared and red, as though he was meeting a celebrity, or a mall Santa.  
“When I was a kid, you know, my favorite show was Criminal Minds. Me and my brother used to watch it, and…and I know it’s fake, but it meant a lot to me and I just wanted to say you’re j-j-just as awesome as the agents on there.”

Will huffed a laugh and continued their drive to the safe house. “Criminal Minds, huh? I guess I should take that as a compliment. Personally, I haven’t watched a single crime drama.” He glanced over with what seemed to be a smile. The kid was sweet.  
He pulled up outside the safehouse. It looked like an inconspicuous student house. Five bedrooms, two bathrooms and a constant FBI presence. You never asked who was in there for what. You all just knew you were scared and in deep.  
Will climbed out of the car and opened Jonathan’s side for him. 

Jonathan blushed hard, so pink he didn’t know what to say. “Really? I l-l-loved them when I was a kid. I know that’s silly, but still…maybe you’d like to see one some time? When you bring books.”  
He hopped out of the car, taking Will’s hand tightly. “Can I show you my room?” The others wouldn’t ask, he was sure. They wouldn’t mind Will. 

Will glanced down at the hand tightly gripping his own. Jonathan needed all the comfort he could get, so Will just let him hold it. “I mean-” Will was going to argue that the only reason he didn’t watch crime serials was because - as a member of the field - he couldn’t even suspend disbelief. But the kid needed him to be supportive. “Sure. And yeah, I’d love to see your room.” 

The inside of the house was simple, designed for easy examination by the constant presence of law enforcement. It had a nice selection of carpets, solid wood flooring, and linoleum in the side kitchen. They’d made some effort to decorate, but it was not meant for anybody to connect long with it. 

Inside Jonathan’s room were five drawings and a calendar. Four were of mythical creatures and landscapes and one was of a pair of hands, evidently drawn from life. Jonathan had rushed inside ahead of Will, tearing one down, but there were still stickers and tape where that sixth had been.

Will felt the sterile building suffocating and constant surveillance as pins piercing his skin. This was nothing like his house. His own place was full of mismatched chairs and dog beds. A piano in the middle of the living room he no longer used. His dark, cluttered but otherwise orderly home was warm compared to the bare walls and clean hard floors of this place. 

It made Will recognise why Jonathan struggled to handle the court case. “It’s unfair,” he said under his breath. Lex wasn’t the only person imprisoned and isolated from the rest of the world.

Jonathan caught Will’s words, soft though they were meant to be. Unfair? He had his own bed now. He wasn’t going to hurt anybody. He had breakfast every day with the rest of them, the others. 

“Wh-why unfair?” Jonathan asked, defensive. He didn’t usually have as much time for books as he liked, and after some person tried to sneak cocaine in through a stack of paperbacks, they’d more or less banned them. He sat down on the bed, smoothing a lump in the blankets to retrieve Rossi, gently cradling the stuffed toy in his arms. “They just have to be careful. ‘Cause there could be bad people.” 

They said Lex was bad people.

Will wandered around Jonathan’s room, fingers tracing the corners of each drawing Jonathan did. He stopped in front of the sellotape where one had been torn down. He picked the remnants from the wall with the care of someone who knew not to leave any marks. 

“I know it’s protocol.” But protocol didn’t always have to be right. “It’s feels so lonely here.” Will finally turned to face Jonathan and propped himself on the windowsill, twisting the scraps of sellotape between his fingers. Jonathan looked so damn small. “I can’t imagine anywhere sterile feeling like home.” 

“I don’t like that it’s sterile, either. But I like the blankets.” He rocked gently back and forth, watching Will. 

Unbidden, he thought of the “Bluebird of Happiness”, coming to land on a windowsill. He’d seen that in a cartoon. Mr. Graham would be a very big bird, then. The Moa of Happiness. That made him, at last, smile.

“Yeah, blankets can make a place.” Will gave him a small, lopsided smile. He knew he couldn’t really do much to help where Jonathan was right now, but he could definitely do something about making it more homey. This had nothing to do with how pissed he was with the world for treating Jonathan the way it had.  
“What was stuck up on that wall?” He pointed to where the sellotape had been left, earlier. 

“A p-picture.” Jonathan said, not smiling anymore as he passed it over to Will. The picture was of the Criminal Minds team, and the plane flying off behind them. Underneath each person was their character’s name and their actor’s name, written in a careful hand. In the bottom right hand corner a cloudlike shape announced it had been made earlier that year by Jonathan S. Tylan.

“Until you came, I told them, and him,” he held up the dragon, “how my day went. You can’t tell many others, since the ones I know were there. I like that you’re here now, too.”

Will held the drawing as if it was one of the Dead Sea Scrolls. He admired how carefully Jonathan had thought about each line and stroke of the pencil. He had never watched the show and frankly didn’t hold much stock in it, but Jonathan’s devotion to it seemed infectious.

“You have me to confide in, too now.” Will glanced up at Jonathan with such a caring smile. “I’m glad you shared it with me.” He handed the paper back. He knew what he’d do for Jonathan when he got home, now.

Will checked his watch and stood. “I’ll come by tomorrow.” Even though there was no court, Jonathan still needed support before he met with Hannibal. “Eat something and write up the first draft you want to share with Hannibal. We can go over it before your appointment.” 

Jonathan squirmed a little under Will’s gaze, then relaxed when Will smiled at him. He wasn’t laughing. He was smiling, not mean-smiling, and he wasn’t showing his teeth. Teeth were scary, always looking like they wanted to eat you.

But…tomorrow?

“What do I say to him?” Jonathan said, voice rapid-shifting to panic. “I know he must be very busy. I don’t want to bother him, you know. I don’t.” He turned to put the paper back on the wall with a few retrieved pieces of tape.

Will held Jonathan’s bedroom door open, one foot out already when he stopped. He turned back to Jonathan. “Well, anything. Everything about Lex. It’ll help, even if it’s just bullet points or a spider diagram.” He smiled at Jonathan as if he was fighting the urge to help him right there. But he had his own appointments to attend and Hannibal hated tardiness almost as much as Jack did. 

“Goodnight, Jonathan.” Will left the safehouse and went on with the rest of his day, Jonathan at the back of his mind. 

He arrived at the safe house early the next morning. It was hard to sleep when faced with nightmares in every corner of his mind. So instead he’d spent the night drawing something for Jonathan. 

He rang the doorbell holding the gifts tight in his fists. 

Jonathan’s own rest had been minimal, writing down everything he could think of about Lex, about their time together. About good things, bad things, things he was afraid of. What Jonathan was afraid of, not Lex. Lex wasn’t afraid of anything, as far as Jonathan knew. 

By three in the morning it was over, and by the time Will showed up Jonathan had slept for about five hours, all told.

Will entered Jonathan’s apartment when greeted and he set the gifts down on Jonathan’s kitchen table. “I bought you some gifts.” 

In the bags, there was a large, thick blanket and a cuddly bear. In an envelope he kept a picture he’d drawn of Jonathan and Will smiling as friends. Will knew he wasn’t much of an artist but knew Jonathan would like it. “It’s so you can talk to me even if it’s late at night and I’m not here.” He smiled. “And breakfast.” He put a tray of food on the table with the gifts. 

“Oh!” Jonathan picked up the toy, putting it on his bed, then folding the blanket so it covered the end of his bed like a comforter. “Thank you so much, Mr. Graham…wait, what’s this?” he opened the envelope, gasping. 

“It looks so nice…you and me, together?” he pointed at the picture. “I’ll put it up right now!” 

Will set up their breakfast on plates while Jonathan unloaded his gifts. “Yeah, I-it’s not that good, but at least it’s there. For support.” He gave a small smile and sat at the table. “Come, eat. You need your strength before you meet Hannibal.”

Jonathan sat stiffly, poking at his food and eating small pieces at a time. “Thank you for breakfast. You got some too, right?”

“Yep.” Will held up his coffee and single hash brown. “Now, remember when you’re with Hannibal that everything stays with him. Nothing can ever leave his office without your permission. Or unless you hurt someone.” He smiled and sipped his drink. “You just need to be honest and accept his advice with a pinch of salt - always ask ‘why’, okay?”

“I didn’t hurt anybody. Can you stay with me, though, so you know what he said, too?” he began to eat a bit more rigorously, liking Will’s closed-smile and returning it. “I don’t want to forget anything. I don’t like being alone with…” he tried to find the words he wanted to say, because Will made him feel safe and understood, and he understood what Will said, too.

“I will always ask him why I should do something. Okay.”

Will went to take Jonathan’s hand, hesitating halfway before he finally rested his hand on Jon’s. “I’ll only stay with you as long as you know it won’t affect how confident you are opening up to Han- Dr Lecter.” He retracted his hand and returned to focussing on his coffee.

“Finish your breakfast and we’ll run through your meeting with Hannibal.” 

“If you being there makes me more confident to open up, do you still get to stay-yi?” He nearly pulled back in surprise when Will rested his hand on his, but didn’t. Will didn’t try anything, after all.

Jonathan returned to his breakfast, eating more enthusiastically than if he’d been alone. “I made notes last night, like you said.” He passed the sheaf of papers over to Will to see.

“Sure, I get to stay if it helps.” Will took the papers and flicked through them as Jonathan ate. He took a pencil and underlined things he needed to ask him about and reworded things Jonathan wanted to ask. He handed back the papers when Jon was finished and helped clearing up their breakfast. 

Jonathan watched him, wondering if the issue was things he wasn’t supposed to tell, didn’t need to. It felt like he was back in school, submitting a story, or a paper. Did Will think it was unrealistic? Too immoral? “Why are these things just underlined?” he asked. 

“The underline is for things we should discuss before you talk to Hannibal. And anything reworded just needed to be clarified a little.” Will sat back down beside him. “Look, this part here was too complicated. It’s easier to just say tell Hannibal what happened and how many times. And I underlined this bit because I want to know if you meant what it says. If you tell him something and it’s a case of misunderstanding, he’ll try treat you for something else.” 

“Sorry.” Jonathan mumbled, looking at the paper carefully. “I don’t remember how many times that happened. It didn’t seem to end. Always kept going. I don’t lie. Lying is…” he searched for the word, twisting his mouth and throat in difficulty. “ _Sinful._ ” 

“Well, it’s not lying if you tell him that you don’t remember because it was so many. Or if you say that it was upwards of a certain number.” Will rested his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “Lying is bad, but not sinful and sometimes necessary.” 

“More than seven. More than ten.” Jonathan nodded. He held stock-still under Will’s hand, unsure of how he was supposed to respond.

Will bit the inside of his cheek to try and hide his protective anger as it brewed within him. No one had the right to hurt someone like this. Much less so many times. “And then, that’s the truth. Keep that in mind. Words are clever things.”

He went through some other, smaller things until it turned nine and they should get going to Hannibal’s. 

“Get a bag ready, and I’ll get our coats, okay?” Will smiled and stood. “You’ll do great.”

“Why a bag?” Jonathan asked, standing too. “For the papers?” 

Will nodded. “The papers. And something you want for comfort, maybe?” Will disappeared into the corridor and fetched their coats. 

"Yes. Thank you."

* * *

_Five months later--_

Jonathan’s legs barely reached the deep-pile carpet of Dr. Lecter’s office floor, cheap red sneakers missing the opportunity to scrape the chair by wrapping around the legs instead. The small man was shifting back and forth, obviously excited. “Good-afternoonDoctorLecter; howareyou?” he rushed the greeting, but he would still stand on formalities. 

Hannibal moved through the room at his own pace. He made sure his pen and pad were straightened before he settled in the seat opposite Jonathan. It was easy to intimidate the boy. Hannibal simply had to breathe and the boy would be trembling. His monsters were still very much haunting him. 

“Good afternoon, Jonathan.” Hannibal crossed his legs and settle back in the seat. “I am well, thank you.” He offered a curl of his lip as a smile. “And how are you, this week?” 

Jonathan clenched his hand against his knee, trying to focus. “Quite. Well. Thank..yyyou.” rather than the garrulous manner he’d had moments ago, he was forcing out every word slowly, with a great deal of uncertainty.“I’m doing really well. Me and Will, we’re doing great together. I think it’s all that you taught me about relationships an’ stuff. Not hurrying. You practically knew all of it. I’m glad you shared.”

Hannibal tilted his head ever so slightly the moment Will was mentioned. He picked some lint from his knee. “It is my job to ensure that you have the social skills required to face the courtroom. An intimate and adult relationship is quite different.” He glanced towards the window. “I believe it’s time we discuss the subject of intimacy. After all, we have avoided the topic, even though it is the primary form of abuse your previous partner has inflicted upon you.” 

“Well, what do you want to ask? I don’t have anything to hide.” his eyes slid into half-focus, staring behind the good doctor’s shoulder at the bookshelf. 

Hannibal looked Jonathan in the eye and kept his gaze there, even as he opened his notepad and uncapped his pen. “Perhaps we should start with your current sex life and compare it to how your ex-partner had treated you.” 

He jotted something down before he finally started the questions, knowing Jonathan would only bring up topics he pried into. “How often do you perform intimate acts? They may be romantic or sexual in nature.”

“Um…maybe three times since I got away from Lex. Three or four, not that many. You know.” Jonathan began to rock back and forth slightly, thinking of the way Will had been so kind to him, held him in his arms, massaged at him, told him nice things as they moved slowly, slowly, slow. 

“Only three?” Hannibal raised a brow, trying to urge more information from Jonathan as if he knew something more about Will than Jonathan did. “And what is the nature of these intimate moments?” He knew Lex had been exceedingly rough. If Will even suggested indulging his true nature with Jonathan, they’d never last. “It is not uncommon for abuse victims to reenact the acts that ‘broke’ them with new lovers.” 

“What do you mean? I wouldn’t want to make Wi–want to make them do anything they didn’t want to. It was very nice. Just very gentle movements, nothing too interesting. They didn’t cut at all. They said how wonderful I was, and they _didn’t lie.”_

“They had nothing to gain from lying?” Hannibal tipped his head to the side, watching how defensive Jonathan seemed to become upon mentioning the nature of their intercourse. “It also sounds that you were unsatisfied. Sex only interesting to those who want it. Did you not want it? Or perhaps you wanted more from Will… you’re partner?” Hannibal knew exactly what he was doing when he ‘accidentally’ said Will’s name. 

“No sir. Will made me happy. I was satisfied, but…what do people do when they want to be together for a longer time? Not just hang out, not just have sex, but be together a lot and, you know, take care of each other.”

“Will left you sexually satisfied, and yet you’re seeking satisfaction romantically. From all you’ve told me, it is understandable. Neither of you are entirely forthcoming with your romantic side. William holds his cards close to his heart, and you wait for him to make the first move.” Hannibal looked towards the window and subtly wetted his lips. 

“I would usually advise you to propose, if that was your wish. However, with the court case you would be best waiting until Will is no longer bound to you with work.” 

“Propose? Really?” Jonathan’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “But the court…it’ll end soon! Soon as anything! Oh, thank you Doctor Lecter, thank you!” he pumped Hannibal’s hand as hard as he could, reaching over the big desk before turning to run out of the room, swerving as he nearly ran into the deer statue near the door.

Hannibal was left alone in his office, not so much frustrated as bemused. Jonathan seemed to take specific words from their meetings and lose the meaning entirely. Hannibal had had patients like this, before and found their own confusion to be self-destructive and somewhat amusing. But Jonathan was involving Will Graham, and that would not do.

Hannibal stood from his chair and moved to finish his day, straightening his papers up and gathering his coat. As he flicked the light to his office off, a smirk crossed his lips.  
Jonathan spent the next few days picking out words, writing out his proposal over and over again in ways from bullet points to sonnet form. He wrote out quotes and poems he loved, drew images of him and Will together, talked to Will’s dogs while he was feeding them to run ideas by the ones who knew him best. 

Every day after the trial period, Jonathan took the bus to a jewelry store, or walked to ones nearer, staring at ring after ring, and trying to remember Will’s colors–would he look best in a gold ring? What about silver, or copper? Gems, to make his eyes sparkle? Jonathan already knew what kind of ring he wanted, but it would take ages…oh well. He’d buy it later, after the trial was over. 

One day, after a light meal at that cafe Will had brought him the day they’d met, Jonathan found it. Just lying there, like somebody hadn’t cared about it at all. But he did. The ring was brushed into clean steely gray, the color of a gun, of protective steel, with a smooth antler core that looked soft but felt…

“ _As hard as dragonscale_.” Jonathan said softly, quoting Bilbo Baggins as he rolled it in his slim fingers. The words he wanted to say, the proposal, it all made sense now–he could feel them, almost see them, like stepping-stones in front of him and he missed two buses in the course of scribbling down what he called his word-weaving. 

_Dearest, Most Beloved Will,_

_In 1851, the great English painter Sir Edwin Landseer was commissioned by Queen Victoria to paint an image which has now become famous– “The Monarch of the Glen”. In it, a proud stag stands to survey his territory, his twelve-pointed antlers touched with golden light. Behind him, a storm rises, and while he is aware of it, he is unafraid, knowing he can and will survive this onslaught._

_You have always been kind, Will. From the first day you walked into that courtroom, you protected me, fed me, gave me assurance in a world where I was sure there was none. Ergo, I hope that this ring–antler and steel–will remind you of the great affection I feel for you, and always will feel. That your protection, whatever it may be, keeps the weak and the helpless safe._

_I wish most of all to stay by your side in this life, Will Graham. Now and forever. Would you do me the greatest of honors by being my ~~Valentine?~~ husband? _

_~~Sincerely,~~ _

_~~  
~~ _ ~~~~

~~_Jonathan_ ~~

He had planned to do something soon after, the next day, probably, but the trial went distinctively downhill as soon as he walked into court.

For the evidence had vanished. 

Little things at first, then bigger and bigger as the next week went on. Lex’s favorite scalpel was missing–Jonathan’s originally sketched testimony–the analysis of the doctors who’d treated him after an officer had found his battered, bleeding body in an abandoned house–a list of purchases made over seventeen states by a series of aliases tracing back to Lex–disappearance profiles of other victims–the hypodermic needle they’d found ground into Lex’s boot in an attempt to crush it–

Missing.

Missing. 

Gone.

Jonathan’s days ended so often in stuttering tears it became a joke in the free paper he got, and he tried to pretend it didn’t hurt as he forced his shaking hands onto the next page. 

He remembered that he did not cry when they announced Lex was found not guilty due to lack of evidence. 

He did not even cry when he was being driven home, as usual. 

He remembered feeling reckless, confused, wanting to do something, anything, for fuck’s sake, _anything..._  
So he asked Will to dinner, the ring and the note and the wrapping paper safely deep in his pocket, cold little paw clenched around it.  
“Will,” he began, “Dearest Will…”

* * *

Hannibal had invested quite some time and a hefty fund in planting the ring. 

As Will wasn’t one to wear fancy ornaments, stealing a ring from his home would have been impossible. Hannibal had found the opportunity to drag WIll to a jewellers during a case. The victim was found with a unique ring pushed down their throats. While Will pawed through logbooks, Hannibal feigned interest in the rings. 

“William, what would you say to this style?” Hannibal pointed to one he knew Will would find revolting. 

Will glanced over, disinterest clear in his eyes. “I don’t do jewellery, Hannibal.”

“It is only proper for a man to have at least one piece for special occasions.” Hannibal waved for the jeweller to take the hideous ring out. “Come, you should at least try it.” 

“I’m working, Hannibal.” Will didn’t even look up from the book. 

“Humour me.” Hannibal took Will’s left hand without Will even acknowledging it. He slid the ring on and nodded. “You’re quite right, William. It’s quite ugly. Especially on you.” He removed the ring and had it put back. 

Will seemed so distracted that day, it had been no surprise that he forgot Hannibal’s strange and out of character behaviour. Small mercies for the grim distraction of missing evidence in Jonathan’s court case. Not that it was entirely coincidental. 

After those difficult tasks, leaving a ring on the one table Jonathan liked to sit at seemed too easy. Hannibal watched from his car as Jonathan inspected the ring and pocket it. He almost smiled at the idea the boy was an unknowing thief. 

Will came home after a long day of Jack Crawford screaming in his face. Damage control was bad enough, but when the court discovered how close Will had grown to Jonathan they had dismissed the profile he’d drawn up about Lex. Without any viable evidence, they were forced to find him not guilty. 

“Jonathan?” Will stepped into the house and dropped his bag on a chair. He just wanted to have a shower and sit in front of a blazing fire with a bottle of whiskey. He stopped halfway through the living room and breathed in the scent of food cooking. “Jonathan?”

Jonathan poked his head around to look at Will. “H-Hi Will…” Jonathan was already blushing and shy, a dot of the teriyaki sauce he was trying to make staining the tip of his nose. 

“Thought I could make dinner, if you’re okay with that. There was this really great trout recipe I saw, and, well, I thought something sweet and savory w-would be just the thing…” He prodded at the bridge of his glasses, now leaving a splash of red-brown color on his face. 

“I poured your favorite whiskey. It’s in front of the fire, but I didn’t get it started, ‘cause the fire…” Jonathan shrugged clumsily. He still didn’t like getting close to fire, but after Will had seen the burn marks on his hands, he’d understood.

“You just relax, Will. It’s been a long day for b-both of us.”

Will frowned and let his coat drop from his shoulders and onto the floor. “C’mere.” Will opened his arms for Jon and pulled him into a hug, ignoring the spodge of sauce on his nose. He remained holding onto Jon as if he was both being anchored and the anchor himself. 

He ran a hand through Jon’s hair and drew back to press a kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry I couldn’t… I couldn’t get him given the needle.” 

Stepping back, Will wiped his eyes, sparkling with tears. He sniffed and went to the fireplace. “Let’s get this thing lit up, right?” He knelt down and started to light the logs, dogs sniffing about as they went to inspect why their master was so solemn.

  
“Not your fault. Not your fault. Doesn’t matter matter matter matter matter now.” Jonathan was trying not to think about what had happened that day, and he’d gotten so close, and now it was just him and Will, them together, always. He didn’t mean to repeat words so, but there he was. 

The trout was done soon enough, good to serve warm. He brought plates over near the fire, since the table would be colder and further away. 

“I got you a present. For after the trial. Even if we lost.” His voice broke on the last word, but that wasn’t a lie. The ring was kind of like a present.

Will glanced back at Jonathan. The kid had pink cheeks and shimmering eyes. “Oh Jonathan.” Will stood and took Jonathan into another tight hug. “I don’t need any present from you. You’re worth the world to me.” He pressed a tender kiss to his lips and pushed his hair back.

“Now, let’s have dinner and enjoy a drink in peace. Hmm?”

“S-sure. But it’s still a nice present.” Jonathan prodded at his glasses, settling down next to the fire with his fish. He’d skip the alcohol–if he started drinking tonight, he’d never stop, thinking of what Lex could do, would do, now that he was free, O if he got a _knife…_

Will already tasted bitter-sour against his mouth, and a little cheap. Some liquor store was a little richer tonight, he supposed. But it was all right now. They were all right now. 

All through dinner, Jonathan was squirmy, shifting from side to side, going over the words in his mind and playing with the ring in his pocket. He rushed to take their plates back, cleaning them as fast as he could, thinking this is the last time I’ll do this before I ask, last time I dry them, last time I wash my hands before I ask, last time last time last time…

Walking towards the center of Will’s living room was quite different from walking to the stand–here, you swerved around dog beds, and your eyes got drawn everywhere to interesting things.

“Will, in 1851 Sir Edwin Landseer was commissioned to do a portrait of three panels and it created _The Monarch of the Glen_ and I saw this, and I thought it was like you because there was a deer and that’s soft but then there’s like silver and that’s like protecting and you do that and would you be my…my…” Jonathan lost his words right then, head jerking to try and show what he meant, and then the ring fell out of his hands and he dropped to his knees to try and retrieve the stupid thing, give it to Will so he _understood!_

Will sat eating in a thoughtful silence. He noticed how on edge Jonathan was, and knew it was likely this ‘present’ he wanted to give Will. Will didn’t ask, yet. It was better that way. Jonathan would tell him in time. 

Dinner was delicious, but Jonathan whisked their dishes away too fast for Will to actually tell him. This gift had to be really good for Jonathan to act like this. 

Will remained seated, brow furrowed in a wholly clueless look. When Jonathan started his speech, he couldn’t hide the small smile that grew from his lips. Jon had rehearsed this a lot. 

As Jonathan crumbled and scrabbled for the ring, Will dropped off of his seat and caught the ring between his fingers. He went to hand Jon back the ring, but froze when he actually saw it. “Jonathan…” He looked up at him, both men kneeling face to face. “You weren’t proposing?” 

“Proposing. Yes. Hannibal said. Grown-up.” Jonathan stared at him head-on, regular eye and false eye both, trying to understand what Will was thinking. “The ring, I found it, found it where you sat the first time and it made me think of you it was like a sign…so if you’re okay with it, well, I am proposing, yes.” 

Will’s subtle smile disappeared the moment Jon mentioned Hannibal. When he actually looked at the ring, it became painfully obvious this was all Hannibal’s doing. It wouldn’t be hard for him to plant the ring for Jon if he knew Jon’s routine. 

“I-I…” He’d have said a hesitant yes in the best of situations. Marrying after only a few weeks of dating was foolish, not to mention unethical in their situation. But with Hannibal’s fingers dipped into the whole thing, Will was reluctant to even entertain the idea. 

When Will looked Jon in the eye, though… He couldn’t say no. “Yes.” He forced a smile. “I accept.” He put the ring on and pulled Jon into a hug to help hide his face. 

“Will…Will, really Will, I love you.” Jonathan hugged Will as tight as he could, pressing his body against the man he loved most in the world, who had accepted, even though he’d messed up the words and dropped the ring!

Will held Jonathan tight, looking out towards the front door. His heart was racing for something not entirely the love he felt for Jon. He was furious. Hannibal would find out how mad tomorrow, Will would make sure of it. For this evening, though, he wanted to make sure Jon was happy. 

Will pulled out of the hug to give Jonathan a chaste kiss. “Let’s go have a bath and go to bed early to celebrate? I’ll do that thing you like.” He hid his emotions well as he made eye contact with Jon.

Jonathan kissed him back, pressing his nose under Will’s jaw like any other stray, nodding agreement. “Do you want me to run the bath for you? Or would you rather do so?” 

“I can run the bath for _us._ ” Will smiled and unwrapped from Jonathan before he stood. He disappeared upstairs and returned while the bath ran. “C’mon, Jon.” He took his hand. 

Jonathan took Will’s hand, grinning. He followed Will upstairs, wrist arched as though they were going to a dance hall. 

He took Jon into the bathroom and started to peel away Jon’s clothes. “I bought bubblebath the other day.” It had meant to be part of a ‘we won’ gift he was going to give Jonathan after they won the case. Considering that they had just lost it, it felt unfair to let it go to waste.  
“There’s apple, watermelon or bubblegum.”

“Watermelon sounds perfect right now.” All three smelled unreal to him, but the whole of the past few days had been ‘unreal’. The near-neon colors of the bottles reminded him of where he’d grown up with his brother, bright dry sun ten or more months out of the year, far away from a place where people debated on ‘mud season’, or needed coat racks. 

Will was always gentle, quick neat fingers sliding his clothes away. Jonathan wasn’t shy about being close to him, or being naked, quite so much with him now, perching on the edge of the toilet. In this moment, with a warm meal in him, and his best friend, his love–who accepted, _accepted, **accepted!**_ –he could not have asked for anything more. The world was perfect, and it was beside the point to want anything more.


	2. With Their Heart In Their Throat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set three weeks after the proposal in Part 1.

“If I see one more fabric swatch, I’m going to bite it in half.” Jonathan said, leaning forwards to confide in Will. “I mean, we’re not, we’re not getting married in blinkin’ Saint Peter’s!” Doctor Lecter–Hannibal’s–concepts of taste, food and wine, baffled Jonathan, just as much as Doctor Bloom–Alana’s–ideas for events and flower patterns did. More and more often his days ended with dizzying confusion, and despite their own love, Will and Jonathan spent less and less time together, sleeping where they fell until they were obliged to move because the other was grinding their teeth in their sleep. Again.

Will had no idea what to blame. He seemed to be annoyed with everyone and everything. He took any opportunity to work, even the most boring of jobs. He just couldn’t bear spending another moment with any of the culprits. Hannibal was controlling every aspect he could of the wedding, while whispering into Will’s ear about whether he should actually go through with it. Then there was Alana who was babying them. 

And then there was Jonathan. Will loved him but the only time they were spending together reminded him of why Will never wanted a wedding in the first place. Jonathan stressed out on the smallest of things, lately. He would panic and then Will would have to baby him in a way he’d never had to before. 

They never had sex, anymore - which didn’t help the frustration. And some days, Will was glad. 

But what was hurting their relationship most was Will. Jonathan had no idea about how far Will had disintegrated.

One night after work, he’d needed a drink. Instead of going home for one, he decided to visit a bar. A few whiskeys in he was followed into the bathroom by a stranger. They locked themselves in a cubicle and kissed, the stranger’s knee grinding against his crotch and their hands exploring his body. Will found sense the moment their hand slipped down the back of his pants. He immediately stopped it and ran out. He slept in the car that night. 

The next day, during his appointment with Hannibal, they’d shared a drink of wine and Will confessed about the kiss. Hannibal had seemed to understand. And that was all Will had wanted. So when Hannibal stepped towards him, he didn’t stop him. He didn’t stop the wine-tasting kiss. He didn’t stop Hannibal from pinning him to the chez lounge.

When Will pulled his clothes back on, he wanted to turn back the clocks. He wanted to cry or scream or punch someone. But he just laughed a low wet laugh. He told Hannibal not to tell Jonathan… that it would kill them both. 

So today felt like a heavier weight pressed onto his chest. Will sat there listless as he stared at swatch after swatch. He couldn’t even look at Jonathan for fear that he would know. He would know just by a look. “Yeah, whatever. Go with what you want,” he said, clearly not listening. 

“It was a _joke._ ” Jonathan said, not sure why he was hurt. He’d been fretting over the least things lately, and he knew it was tiring Will. Did he feel as confused as Jonathan at the tiny details that Hannibal insisted were so important? At one point, early on, Jonathan had lost his temper and asked Hannibal point-blank why it couldn’t be a simple church wedding, and Hannibal had coolly replied that if they wished to be turned away for their relation, then he saw no harm. That possibility, of never realizing his marriage to Will, had scared him straight.

“I was thinking, m-maybe we should take a break from each other. Not forever. The wedding’s still on, or, I hope it is, but if we just…rested for a few weeks, maybe that’d calm the two of us down.”

“I’m sorry Jon. I’m just tired.” Will reached over to take Jonathan’s hand but froze short when he heard the proposition. 

Straightening up, Will worried his lip between his teeth. “Jon…” Breaks never ever went well. And Will needed to protect Jonathan. There was no one else to. But still Will found himself agreeing. “If you-you think that’s best. Perhaps you can stay at Alana’s and I can-can stay looking after the dogs.”

He knew that he was the one who had caused this. He’d put a block between them by sleeping with someone else. It hadn’t even felt worth it, and still he knew he’d probably do it again if they stayed like this. They needed space.

“There’s a nice hotel downtown. I think Alana sees enough of me at our meetings, Will.” He’d never lied to Will before, but the truth of wanting to avoid Alana seemed to soften it a bit. 

“You take special care of Bastien, okay?” he added. He loved the dogs, well, not quite as much as Will, but a lot. They were sensible beasts, and kindly as well. 

Anyway, Jonathan already knew what he was going to leave here at home, and what he was going to take. He hurried through packing, muttering “just for a little while, not long.” like he was trying to convince somebody. 

He left Rossi behind, so he wouldn’t get hurt again, too.

Jonathan wasn’t sure how he reached the house he’d known so well, for so long. How he’d gotten there from Will’s house, he wasn’t sure. Blood rushed through his ears, barely able to hear as he stumbled forwards, up the steps to Lex’s home, to knock gently at the door.

* * *

“Hannibal, I think he’s going to do something stupid.” Will paced the office, hands tugging at his curls. “I shouldn’t have agreed to the break!” 

Hannibal just watched Will pace as if observing a bird in a cage. It amused him that Will still acted as the worried guardian more than a jealous lover or spurned fiance. Hannibal had always found Will’s relationship with Jonathan as harmless distraction. Now he could push forwards the breaking weight. “Will-” 

“Before you tell me I shouldn’t worry: Lex is out there! And Jonathan has shown he’s not reliable.” 

“Will, if you’re so concerned that Jonathan would cheat on you and return to his abuser, perhaps you are projecting.” 

Will stopped pacing and stared at Hannibal as if he’d just spat on him. “Don’t you dare. Hannibal, don’t…” 

“You are obviously dissatisfied with your relationship with Jonathan.” Hannibal stood and set his glass on the side table. 

Will’s jaw clenched and he shook his head. “That’s not true.” 

“You cheated on him, a few weeks before your wedding, William.” Hannibal took a step forwards as a predator and Will stumbled back as the prey. “In this room, in fact. And if it hadn’t been for me, it would have been with a stranger.” 

“Don’t you dare turn that on me. Don’t!” Will held up a finger to warn Hannibal away. “I did that because I was upset.” 

“And so you’d run to a stranger’s bed whenever you’re upset?” Hannibal ignored Will’s hand and stepped even closer, his chest pressing firmly to Will’s extended hand. “That is hardly the basis of a healthy relationship, William. Jonathan took and took but offered no support to you. Of course you buckled beneath the weight.” 

Will’s hand slowly lowered, his eyes wide, lips parted and dry. Hannibal was speaking sense. Every word. “But Jonathan needs me.” 

“If he needed you,” Hannibal said as he took the closing step and gripped Will’s jaw. “He wouldn’t have left.” Hannibal pressed lowered his head Will’s unresisting mouth. 

Will spent the next week avoiding Hannibal and his office. But soon enough, Hannibal appeared on his doorstep with wine and a home cooked meal. And Will let him in without a word. He’d let Hannibal tidy the place and then let him take him to bed. 

It felt hopeless to argue the why-nots. Hannibal would have an answer for each dilemma.

 **What about Jonathan?** _He ran off to his ex the moment he had the chance._

 **But it’s unethical.** _I was never your psychiatrist. Just a concerned friend._

 **But I don’t love you.** _Yes you do._

Will lay in bed, tightly wrapped in his covers. He watched as Hannibal went about redressing. They’d both enjoyed it in the moment, but now a deep sickness filled Will. He couldn’t stop watching Hannibal. He dared not look away. 

“I would like us to have a meal in public this evening. Our ‘first date’ I suppose,” Hannibal said as he straightened out his tie in the mirror. He glanced back with a smile Will had never truly seen before. Once, perhaps, but all past memories of Hannibal were quickly fading in place of the new image he had in his mind. 

Will cleared his throat. “Anywhere in particular?” he managed to say. 

“That shall be a surprise. But a suit should be a good choice. I shall pick you up at seven, if that suits you?” 

Will gave a nod and was finally left alone to recall if this was the first biggest mistake of his life, or just the second - after letting Jonathan go back to his torturer.

_Meanwhile..._

Jonathan felt sick, looking at himself. He knew he looked awful next to Lex, in his ratty sport coat and cheap shoes. Lex looked the way he always did–smooth, elegant, assertive.

“Look at yourself.” Lex said, roughly tugging at his pet’s clothes. “Aren’t you ready yet, Johnny? I mean, if you lost some weight, you’d look a lot better, you know. Lose that belly.” his great dark eyes looked soft and sad, the color of flawed obsidian. “But I know that’d be too hard for you, wouldn’t it, Johnny-boy? Too scared to even help yourself. God, you’re pathetic. Get up.” 

He yanked the smaller man upwards, tugging him down the stairs and into the car. 

“Where are we g-going?” Jonathan asked, his voice the whimpering sounds of a beaten dog. He missed Will, missed curling up with his doggies every night. He let out little chirping cries, trying to gulp back tears, the sound turning to a shriek as Lex swerved hard enough to send the childlike man into the side of the door, the seatbelt choking against his throat. 

“Come on, crybaby, don’t you want to have a good time?”  
Jonathan nodded, too scared to say anything as Lex kissed his hand, pulling his arm forwards again, off-center.  
“There you go.” the big man taunted. “Made the nasty boo-boo all better, didn’t I?”

“Yes Daddy…yes Lex…” Jonathan snuffled, cowering backwards against the seat until they reached the restaurant. He recognized the name of the place, Hannibal had mentioned it once. 

They sat in the center of the room, Lex watching with amusement as Jonathan twitched and squirmed in nervous fear. “What is it, Johnny? What’s wrong with this table? Is the restaurant not good enough for you?”

“No, s’nice.”

“Then stop.”

* * *

Will remained silent as Hannibal drove them into the city. He fidgeted with his tie and twisted his hands in the coarse fabric of his shirt. He couldn’t look at Hannibal. Hannibal who had appeared on his doorstep with a gift of fine silver anchor cufflinks. They glinted even in the darkness of the car. 

Hannibal drove with that smile Will had found so attractive before. Now Will just wanted to slap that smile off his face. He wanted something genuine from him. 

When they parked up outside the restaurant, Hannibal opened Will’s door for him. “How are you feeling, William?” Hannibal placed his palm on the small of Will’s back and guided him around the car. 

“Like I’ve got a hook in my lip that’s dragging me towards the surface of the water,” Will said, his voice hard and body tense. He didn’t want to hide his dissatisfaction over this situation. He wanted to be with Jonathan. He wanted to be curled up in bed reading Wilde to him with the dogs nearby. 

“You’ll grow used to it soon enough.” Hannibal passed the keys over to the valet before he pressed his lips to Will’s cheek. “And you’ll learn to enjoy the life I have for us.” 

Will grunted and tried to ignore the pain growing in his chest. 

Hannibal guided Will through the fine establishment, his hand firm and sure as it pushed him forwards. Will found himself lost in his own thoughts. So lost, in fact, he almost didn’t recognise his fiancee - or ex-fiancee - sat trembling like a leaf. Hannibal’s hand pressed harder on his back, but Will refused to take a single step further. 

“Jon…” His voice cracked and suddenly he wished he had his badge, cuffs or gun. Something that would help him protect Jonathan from the man beside him. And Lex had a smile that no one could mistake for anything but the satisfaction of a sadist.

Jonathan looked up for a moment, and he’d swear on whatever you put in front of him he’d only looked up because the door opened. Will saw. Will must know. He’d never bought Jonathan’s excuses for why he was coming to their meetings jumpy and bruised. Will didn’t know how much Jonathan loved him, surely. Thought Jonathan was a dirty cheater. He’d just gone to say sorry to Lex, and it had gotten out of hand.

He toyed with the edge of his sport coat, thinking of the beautiful silver anchor Will’d given him, how he’d put it around Rossi’s neck in the box back at Will’s house for when he came home. Now it only looked like more evidence of his betrayal, not wearing what his fiancee got him. 

Lex had ordered tonight. Told the waiter Jonathan was just coming into town for a few weeks after a medical stay, and so he would like something very light, thank you. Jonathan had just nodded along dumbly, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Remembering Lex’s words about his weight, he picked at the mushroom soup, though he hated it anyhow. 

But he couldn’t stop thinking of Will. Thinking of how kindly Will was, the perfect husband, the perfect friend. Thinking of Winston and Bastien and Buster and the rest of the pack, how he’d thrown it away for a reason he could not even put to words. His hands shook, dribbling soup down his front, and knowing Lex was going to be angry, hurried to the bathroom. He prayed Will would find some excuse to join him. _Prayed_. Ha. No god was looking after traitorous little boys with soup all over them.

* * *

Hannibal finally managed to push Will forwards and past Jonathan and Lex’s table. Hannibal cast a glance at Lex as if he was no threat to himself or Will. He was safe in that knowledge, at least. While Lex was quite a gross specimen, his brand of torture was not nearly as refined as his own. That knowledge sent a thrill through Hannibal he only felt when he killed his competitors.

“Here we are,” Hannibal said, guiding Will up to the small balcony area. The table was set exactly to Hannibal’s specifications, a ribboned box on the place setting meant for Will. He drew out Will’s chair before he seated himself down.

Will sat, fists clenched tight. He couldn’t even look at Hannibal, gazing over the vine draped bannister to watch the ruckus Jonathan and Lex were making. He wanted to go down there and rescue Jon there and then. But somewhere deep in his heart, he was being torn apart. After everything he’d done to help Jon, he’d gone right back to Lex. The thought made bile rise up in his throat.

“Open your gift, William.” Hannibal seemed to smile through it all, just pleased that soon he’d have Will’s undivided attention. 

Will’s Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed back his rage. Turning back to Hannibal and the box, Will took it in his hands. He took his time untying the bow, terrified that Hannibal had bought him something he couldn’t refuse.

Inside lay a braided deerhide bracelet, a folded pocket knife folded on top of it. Will glanced up at Hannibal before reaching in for the knife. He inspected the gold inlay and engraving. The blade was sharp enough to spear even the toughest of men. “Hannibal…”

“Yes, William?” 

“I can’t take this.” He set the blade down in front of Hannibal. He didn’t trust himself not to kill Lex or even Hannibal. 

“But you will keep the bracelet, I hope?” Hannibal pocketed the blade, his smile never faltering. This was the exact reason he had bought two gifts. Any excuse Will could give for the blade would fail for the bracelet. 

Will nodded once and started to put it on.

“Here,” Hannibal said, reaching for Will’s wrist. He took his time clicking the latch in place before he kissed Will’s knuckles. “There.” 

Both men glanced over when they heard a small ruckus and watched Jonathan run to the bathroom. Will tried to stand and Hannibal tugged him back down by his wrist. “I shall go. You think of what you want from the menu.” Hannibal left Will at the table, alone and watching Lex.

Hannibal stepped into the bathroom room, pristine as ever. “Hello, Jonathan.” He stepped in front of the mirror and feigned checking his own suit for any marks. “It is a shame you fell back on our treatment.” Hannibal glanced over at Jon. “And missed yesterday’s wedding plan session. Will was looking forward to seeing you again.”

Will silently left the table and climbed downstairs to Lex’s table.

* * *

“ ‘lo, Hanniba’.” Jonathan looked up at him as he tried to scrub his shirt. He couldn’t meet Hannibal’s eyes, though, he’d start crying if that happened. The words he wanted to say stuck in his throat as though it was rush hour, and they came out slowly. “I…not want to make awkward. You helping with wedding, that hard enough without hearing me in office too.” 

At Hannibal’s final sentence, Jonathan dropped the towel he was using, scrabbling on the floor. “Will?” He didn’t want Hannibal, he wanted Will, wanted Will to be happy, wanted them to be happy together. 

“Will…happy?” Jonathan’s hands gestured to try and make up for what he meant, which was, approximately, _Will wanted to be alone and I want him to be happy. Does he miss me? I miss him. I don’t want Lex any more, I never wanted more of him. What was I supposed to think when Will smelled like cum and your office all through the meeting? That’s what gave me the idea for the break. That’s what it did._

“I miss Will. L-L-Lex hurting, it was an accident. I went over to say sorry for being such a bother with the trial and he was quick and strong and…” he kicked at his leg, frustrated. “And here we are.”

* * *

Hannibal licked his bottom lip and practically circled around this little, broken bird. Jonathan’s skill with the spoken language had regressed, it seemed. Hannibal wondered what man would enjoy a ragdoll of a partner. At least William had some bite with all that bark. Jonathan was already too broken to enjoy. 

He didn’t say anything as he took Jonathan’s hand and pulled him closer, into a hug of mock solidarity, careful not to touch the grubby patch. Of course Hannibal was still Jonathan’s _friend_. “William is well. He is happy.” He pulled back and pinched Jonathan’s chin between his thumb and forefinger forcing Jonathan to look him in the eye. “William is getting everything he needs, now.” 

Hannibal kept Jonathan tight in one arm as he reached for a paper towel and wiped the tears and muck from Jonathan’s face. He concentrated on that task alone as Jonathan spoke. When he finally stepped back, he tugged at Jonathan’s suit. “Of course you miss William. He is a gentle man who is fond of strays. He cannot see a…” Hannibal paused for a moment to pretend to deliberate the rest of his sentence. “Stray in pain.” 

Will stood in front of Lex, fists clenched. “You’re a fucking monster.”

* * *

Lex looked up, all irritation. “You keep saying that.” He hadn’t needed the man in the trial, and hadn’t liked him much there, either. There was no way he was FBI, no way at all, despite his pretensions. “The trial’s over. Leave off.” If he wanted his pet, well, he could take him. “I just want to have a nice dinner.”

In the bathroom, Jonathan was trying to breathe. “I love Will. I love him, not Lex. _Never_ Lex.” His chest tightened slightly, thinking of how Hannibal and Will smelled, together. “I’d do anything to get back to Will.” he said, looking up at Hannibal’s impassive face. “Anything at all in the whole wide world.” 

Jonathan still trusted Hannibal, because Hannibal knew everything.  
“Does he miss me, too?”

* * *

“A nice dinner? A nice dinner? At whose expense? Jon’s?” Will balled his fists up at his sides. “My fiance, might I add.” 

Hannibal looked down at Jonathan and shook his head ever so slightly. “Jonathan, you must understand that you are Lex’s, for as long as he lives. And William is unwilling to share.” Not to mention that Will now wore the marks of Hannibal’s love. 

And tonight he’d wear more, if he even considered-

Hannibal was taken out of his thoughts when he heard yelling. Leaving Jonathan in the bathroom, he came out to see Will fighting Lex. “William!”

* * *

Jonathan raced after Hannibal, shoes sliding on the floor. He hissed through his teeth, not liking the sound of yelling and–fighting? Will and Lex, fighting as though the beautiful restaurant didn’t matter at all. 

_As long as he lives…as long as **Lex** lives…_

Lex fought on sheer bulk, throwing everything forwards to try and knock Will of balance. If Will went down, Jonathan knew, Lex would kick him hard enough to make Will sick later, very sick. Will, on the other hand, latched on to anything he could, lightly enough that he could leap away if need be, but instead focused on landing blows, quickly building up. 

Jonathan didn’t know where Hannibal was, didn’t care, all he knew was that there was Will and there was Lex, and he wanted Will. He ran, trying to claw his way up Lex’s back, biting anything he could reach, hoping to bring his teeth down in an ear, ruin his good looks. As soon as he lowered his head to try and bite Lex’s ear, though, the man brought up a hand, hitting Jonathan hard enough that he saw dark spots in his vision and now was just trying to hold on to Lex.  
“For fuck’s sake–” Lex snapped, grabbing Jonathan and flinging him across the floor.

When Will watched Lex toss Jonathan across the room, he blacked out. His knuckles cracked against Lex’s face and Will felt a terrible pain shoot through his arm. “Fuck!”

Before he could try and continue the fight, Hannibal had hold of him and dragged him from the restaurant. Will couldn’t do anything but watch as the establisment lights disappeared and he found himself in the darkness of the side alley.

Though Hannibal looked the picture of calm, inside his was boiling with rage. “William…”

“Hannibal let go! I have to help Jon.” Will tried prying himself from the wall he was pinned to. “He needs me.“

“No he doesn’t. You need to stay here and calm down, William.” Hannibal had him pinned and he wouldn’t budge until he felt he could trust Will not to run. “You have ruined dinner already. I shall not allow you to ruin the rest of the evening.”

“Shall not? You’re not my fucking boss, Hannibal. I’m a free man.”

“You are clearly incapable of using rational thought, William. And considering the efforts I’ve gone through to make our first date special, I expect certain efforts in return. You shall compose yourself with the dignity I expect of a partner, or you shall be kept for only domestic occasions.” Hannibal drew his face close and suddenly Will was very aware of the sharpness of his teeth. 

Will scoffed and bared his own teeth at Hannibal, but felt like a chastised child. “I’m not your kept ‘boy’, Hannibal. And if you think I trade sexual favours as apologies, you’re severely mistaken.”

Hannibal huffed an almost genuine laugh, then. “In your state, William, I would not like even a kiss.” He stepped back from Will and offered his hand. “Like this, you are wholly unattractive.”

Will felt a pang he’d not felt before. He was used to rejection. He was used to ridicule. But this felt like a heartbreak. Will couldn’t help but take Hannibal’s hand and follow him out like a chastised schoolboy.

The rest of the evening was tense, to say the least. Hannibal couldn’t even look at Will until the intermission of their show. And only then he was playing to the crowds, showing Will off as an exquisite jewel. He claimed that the fresh wounds Will had from dinner were from Will’s work as a profiler.

When they finally got back to Hannibal’s home, he ordered Will to shower and go to bed before him.

Will lay in the unfamiliar bed on his own, in only a pair of boxers. What on Earth kind of mess had he let himself in for?

* * *

Jonathan cowered in the dark, eyes shut tight. He could barely think straight from how much he hurt, feeling how the bruises were already beginning to spread. He knew he stank of blood, and he patted at the worst cuts. 

_“Every new thing you fuck up, you get a new one. Look at this mess.” Lex hadn’t been kind enough to even slash him, this time the knife had been slow as he wrote the long form of his name out._  
_“Fiancee. Don’t you fucking lie to me, Johnny.”_  
_They’d been on the second curve of the x, working upwards against the ‘grain’ of the skin to spiral into an a._  
_“Who the fuck is going to care for you when he’s off his meds?”_  
_“I don’t know. I don’t know. I can’t breathe, please stop. Please stop. Please.”_  
_“But you hurt me so much, John.” Lex sounded like he was crying, too. Jonathan couldn’t see his face, only the side of his shoe and the tile floor of the kitchen._  
_“I spent all that money on a nice dinner for us, and you just ran off. What am I supposed to do, except remind you how much you mean to me?”_  
_“I dunnobe.” His body jerked, moving like a wave as the n was finished._  
_“No idea at all, crybaby? Nothing?”_

The words still hurt, even with his back pounding and wet, and he thought about Will. Will had been fighting Lex, and then he was gone. He didn’t like Lex either, it wasn’t just a job for him, what he’d said in the courtroom, and after.  
Jonathan’d been dazed and confused and stupid when Lex dragged him outside, but he’d heard something from Will, he was sure.  
“He needs me.”  
Then it was silence, then it was dark and he was scared, but if he focused hard on thinking about Will, it soothed him a bit. 

Maybe he could run again. No, Lex had the windows and doors locked like Pelican Bay. Lex was upstairs. Lex was asleep. 

_“You are Lex’s, for as long as he lives.”_

The loophole was very clear.

_Morning--_

Hannibal hadn’t been in the bed when Will woke the next morning, the duvet pulled tight and pristine as if Hannibal hadn’t slept there at all. Will climbed out of bed and headed downstairs, looking for him. “Hannibal? Hannibal?” Will crept down the dark corridors and felt an icy chill down his spine. “Where are you?”

He stopped when he found the back door smashed and bloodstained glass covered the floor. “Oh god.” 

Gloved hands covered Will’s mouth and he yanked up off of his feet. His screams were muffled in the leather and he kicked and flailed. He sobbed and tried reaching back to dig his nails into his attacker, but they were skillful in keeping away from him. The glove smelled of blood and Hannibal, and the sudden sinking feeling set in. 

Had Lex come to kill them both?

He tried his hardest to wrench the hand from his mouth until he was dropped onto the dining table and could finally face his attacker. The man was about Lex’s height and build, deadly silent as he drew his blade and pressed it to Will’s throat. 

Will’s fight or flight instinct set in and he thrashed against the table, yelling for Hannibal. And then he heard the belt buckle. Freezing, Will’s chest was the only thing that moved as he started to hyperventilate. 

“You’re a fucking coward.” Will had barely mustered the courage to speak, his body stiff and still. “You’re a fucking coward,” he repeated. “Where’s Hannibal? What the fuck is Hannibal?” The idea of Hannibal laying somewhere dead had him sobbing uncontrollably. 

The figure drew the belt and bound Will’s arms in front of him. Before Will could choke out another word, the attacker pulled back and pulled off his balaclava. Hannibal stood there, chest rising and falling as if this had been a strain to him. His face wasn’t as happy as someone who’d ‘pranked’ someone usually was. 

“Do you see, William?” 

Will lay there in total shock, eyes wide and mouth slack. He really couldn’t speak, now. Hannibal was never the type to… What the fuck was going on?

“Do you see what you do to yourself?” Hannibal drew Will’s limp form closer and leaned over him, cupping his cheeks. “Your first instinct, even when faced with a brutal demise is to protect others.” 

Will babbled, trying to find the words for how numb Hannibal had made him. 

Hannibal pushed Will’s curls from his face. “Jack abuses that, and Jonathan did, too.” 

Will turned his face away, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Yo-you’re not the type, Hannibal.” 

“No. I’m not. This was just a test, William. To show you how self-destructive you’ve become.” Hannibal pressed a kiss to Will’s cheeks. “You didn’t even run.” 

“I thought you were- that I was going to be…” Will’s blank faced turned to rage and slammed his bound arms down against Hannibal’s chest. “You cunt!” 

Hannibal gave a toothy smile as Will lashed out, clawing and beating his face with the leather tied around Will’s wrists. 

It was only when both men were sat, slumped, bloody and bruised on the floor when Hannibal spoke, again. “Next time, do that.” He drew the knife he’d given Will last night and slit the belt from Will’s wrists. “Now, take this.” He offered it up again, and this time, Will had to take it. 

Will tucked it in his pyjama pant pocket and watched Hannibal get to work clearing up the mess he’d made. 

The rest of the day, Will was flighty and distant. Hannibal had fucked his head up enough to make him sleep with the blade folded beneath his pillow. 

Will woke the next morning to Hannibal’s delicate kiss against the back of his neck. “Hannibal, no.” Will swatted his hands away and watched as Hannibal left the room to get ready for the day ahead. 

Whatever Will had dreamed of with Hannibal had died yesterday. 


	3. With Blood On Their Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Jonathan sings is "Miserere" from _The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, Her Lover_ (1989).

“We’re going to a tailor to get you a suit, Will,” Hannibal said as he served up breakfast. “I intend us to host Jack and Alana, tonight. A last supper.” 

Will frowned and looked up from his eggs. “Where are you going?” 

“We’re leaving. Jack is closing his net, and Jonathan’s presence here is distracting you. This is our chance to start afresh.” 

The car journey to this tailor took about an hour before they finally pulled up. It was in a quaint domestic area and didn’t at all look like a business. But what would Will know of the luxury tailors? 

Hannibal urged Will ahead of him, ringing the doorbell. Will’s heart sank when he saw Lex answer the door.

Lex looked out at them, a smile curling over his face.  
“Hello, Doctor Lecter. Agent Graham.” he extended a hand, intent on dragging Will inside. Hannibal had told him that the smaller man was a screamer, at least around others, and he was interested in testing that.

Jonathan sat at the top of the stairs like a naughty child, listening and thinking as ‘loudly’ as he could. Some people said Will was psychic. Maybe he’d hear him, too.

Will glanced between Lex and Hannibal and could tell Hannibal was up to something. Will took a moment to gather himself before he extended his hand to Lex, ready for a reluctant handshake.

As soon as Will’s hand grazed his own, Lex dragged him inside. “Thank you, Doctor Lecter.”  
Inside, Lex was still close to friendly. “Would you like to see the house, Graham? Or would you prefer to go by _Will?_ ”

Will grunted in surprise as he was dragged into the house. He glanced back and watched Hannibal step in and remove his coat as only a familiar guest would.  
Will didn’t reply to Lex and just watched as Hannibal led the way into the lounge. He wouldn’t justify anything Lex asked until he knew what the fuck they were doing here. 

Jonathan watched Will come in. Will looked impassive, and he wondered what his lover was thinking. He tried to pad downstairs, but only was brave enough to get down halfway, huddling against the railing. Hannibal was there too. Why was he there? His coat looked fancy, and warm. Hannibal always was fancy. He had lots of money. If he could get down there for a moment, he could get warm, too. Maybe he could even get close to Will, and he could curl up on his lap, be a nice little appetizer for the nice guests.

Will found himself dragged along to the lounge by Lex. He managed to catch eyesight with Jon and knew whatever this was could help Jon. Had to be to help him. They wouldn’t come here for no reason.

He was practically tossed onto the couch beside Hannibal.

Jonathan knew what that kind of gathering meant. He limped into the room, keeping quiet, sinking to his knees in the corner to wait. Maybe they were here to take him away. He was going to try to kill Lex _soon_ , yes, but it had been hard going insofar. His leg was as stiff as an old man’s, and on his knees his bad leg seemed to pulse, painful lightning running through it. 

They were talking, and Jonathan knew that he was not to listen, else it was the tapes again, and he didn’t like the tapes. He tried to focus on Will without staring. and wished he’d had more time to clean up, so Will didn’t think he was lazy. Did Will think that?

He was scared enough at that prospect that he soon couldn’t take it any more, crawling over to huddle against Will’s knee, chin resting on it like when they were playing, back home. As Jonathan had come over, Lex had reached down to touch him, just slightly– _inspecting_ –and now Jonathan wanted Will to touch him, too. Not here, though. Back home. And Wilde afterwards.

Will sat beside Hannibal, feeling more in control than he’d done when Lex had been dragging him around. But he knew this was just an illusion. He was prey compared to the two monsters that sat talking. His attention flitted from Hannibal and Lex, then to Jon.  
Jon had his heart ache.  
And that’s when he heard Hannibal speak directly to him. “Do you agree to his terms, William? For Jonathan’s freedom?” 

Wills brows flexed in confusion, obviously too distracted to focus on anything in particular. “What terms?” At that point, he would be happy to do anything for Jon.

He couldn’t help hearing. He tried not to hear, for all their sakes. But there Hannibal was, saying Will would make him go free! Will and him, they were going home. But that was different from what Hannibal said before. He said Will was happy. 

Hannibal seemed fidgety. Different to the calm composed self he presented. There was a hardness in his eyes, solely directed at Lex. “He wishes you to give him sexual favours to save Jonathan.”

Will choked on his breath. “What? Who the fuck would agree-“

Hannibal turned to Will with a knowing smile that was meant to reassure him. “For Jonathan’s life.”

Will’s blood froze and he glanced between all three men. He needed to save Jon but this was just sick. He held his breath and made eye contact with Jonathan. He nodded once.

Jonathan pressed himself closer to Will, looking up at him. He knew eye contact was hard, but he kept it as long as he could because Will had beautiful eyes. 

Sexual favors? To who? Lex? That was understandable. Jonathan wasn’t a very good partner! Will was a very good partner. Lex must be lonely. Nobody was going to be satisfied with Jonathan for long, anyhow. Will had left first. And Lex before him had _spoke_ of others, _threatened_ to have them, but Flynn before that had others he talked about while they were together, comparing, and Jonathan just wasn’t a very good partner, that was the trouble. 

Maybe if he’d have been more obedient, that’s what Flynn always said. If he was more _obedient_ , then Will wouldn’t have had to leave in the first place. Lex had told him he was very unkind, never was properly grateful for what he had. Jonathan had told Will how _grateful_ he was. Every day, he’d told him. And he didn’t get angry with Will at all, when Will told him jump he wouldn’t have asked how high, he would have just kept jumping until Will was happy with him. 

Lex sat there as if the offer wasn’t ridiculous. A life for what? One favour with a man who detested him? Will knew some guys got off on power, but this really wasn’t worth assaulting a police officer. 

It took Will a long moment before he finally offered the spoken agreement. Hannibal rubbed a circle against Will’s back as if comforting him over the idea.

He felt Hannibal’s lips to his ear as he whispered to him. “One favour he’ll never live to remember.” Hannibal pulled back and pushed Will’s hair behind his ear and Will suddenly felt how Margot must have when she’d slept with him. 

Will stood from the couch and took one hesitant step towards Lex. “Fine. For Jon.” Will slowly lowered himself to his knees and glared up at Lex who seemed to be laughing. 

“And here I haven’t told you what exactly I want from you. You must be very eager to please.” Lex uncrossed his legs and pushed Will back. “Strip. And smile about it.”

Jonathan wanted to close his eyes. Really, he did. But Will looked so happy, even though Lex had made him. He wanted to remember Will happy, not angry or sad. He tried to hop up next to Hannibal, because Hannibal was watching too, and he was warm. Wasn’t Hannibal was his friend, too?

Will was so beautiful. And Lex was beautiful, but Jonathan was ugly. That’s why they were together now.

Will shut his eyes as he undid his shirt and tried to imagine it was only Hannibal and Jonathan in the room.

“Sexier, _Will_. It’s just some skin.” Lex leaned on the arm of the chair and watched, clearly bored of Will’s lacklustre attempt.

Gritting his teeth, Will slowly started to move as if he was stripping for a lover. Each piece of clothing hit the floor and he soon stood in his boxers, covering his crotch with his hands. “Are you happy, now?”

Lex hummed and wagged his finger as if he were dragging the boxers down. “All of it, off.”

Will glanced back at Hannibal, eyes begging for some help or permission.

“Don’t look at our audience. This is just you and me.”

Will snarled and slowly let his boxers slip from his hips.

Jonathan let out a little whimper, hoping Lex didn’t hear. Lex wasn’t treating Will nice, like he had the first time with Jonathan. Sex always got worse after the first time, except with Will. Will was always nice.

Will felt Lex’s (and their audience’s) eyes all over him. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and an icy chill shot through his spine. He chewed the inside of his cheek and let himself stand still as a sculpture. 

Lex parted his legs in ‘invitation’, eyes solely on Will’s nude form. “Down.” 

Will knelt on the coarse carpet between Lex’s legs and tried to imagine it was Jonathan or even Hannibal. He pulled Lex’s hard length from his pants and started to slowly stroke it. 

_Jonathan looked so sweet stood there pressed up against a tree and holding his shirt up so he could see Will. He smelled of strawberries and tasted sweet against Will’s tongue._

_“W-Will, what if someone finds us.” Jonathan’s knees bumped together as he trembled._

_“This is my private land, Jon.” Will smiled up at him, kissing Jonathan’s inner thigh as he stroked his lover’s length. “No one’s here. Just enjoy this.”_

“Look at me, Will.” Hard fingers caught Will’s jaw and forced him to look up at Lex. “How about you just _pretend_ to enjoy this? Wouldn’t want your boyfriends to get upset.” 

Jonathan tugged at Hannibal’s pant leg. “Hannibal, I don’t like this.” he whispered, insistent. “Do we have to watch, Hannibal?”

He wanted to be there, be with Will, feel the way Will touched him and cared for him. If Lex got angry, he would have to hurt Jonathan, not Will. 

“Yes. Keep your eyes on Will,” Hannibal said, his heart beating with the hunter’s instinct within him struggling to resist attacking Lex. But this was all part of a plan he had to continue.  
Will gave Lex what he wanted until Lex had spilled into Will’s mouth.  
Will fell back spluttering and wiped his mouth with his arm.

Jonathan came over, wanting to press his head and shoulder against Will, hold Will to him, as though he could somehow comfort his fiancee, the man he loved so much. Will still smelled good, if clammy, he smelled like _safesafesafesafelovehomedoggiedogs_. And now, like Lex.

But it was all over now, right? They’d made a bargain. They were going home, and he’d ask to stop at the good store for strawberries, and they would have them with dinner and breakfast tomorrow.

Will started to pull his clothes back on and Lex stood. He tucked his cock back into his pants with a smirk and watched as Will slid on his boxers and jeans. “Will,” he said in a low, drawn out tone. “Will, look at me.” 

Will refused to look up. He’d done everything he needed to and he didn’t have to obey anything Lex asked for. 

“Look at me you ungrateful whore.” Lex struck the side of Will’s head and all breath escaped Will’s lungs. 

Hannibal stood and grabbed Lex’s arm as he readied to give him another blow. “Come with me. We have certain things to discuss while my partner dresses.” Hannibal guided Lex out of the room. 

Will held his cheek with a scowl. Was it not enough that he could taste the prick’s cock still? Lex just had to add humiliation to the deal. Will couldn’t look at Jon as he finished dressing until he’d taken a large gulp of water from a nearby cup. 

He turned to face Jon and moved to pull him into a hug. “I’m so so sorry, Jon.”

Jonathan hugged him back, holding on as though he would never let go. “I-it’s not your fault. I just wanted to tell him I was sorry. I wanted to be polite. I didn’t think you were gonna be hurt. I didn’t.” He tried to kiss at where Lex had struck him, trying to find a way to make Will okay again so he wasn’t hurting anymore.  
“I’m sorry, too.” 

“Jon, I know it’s not your fault.” Will pressed a kiss to Jon’s cheek, unwilling to kiss his lips after what he’d just done with Lex. “I should never have cheated on you-”  
Will heard the unfamiliar sound of Hannibal’s elevated voice. He couldn’t quite make out the words.  


Jonathan tried to kiss him more, kiss back, kiss more and more until he was enveloped by every cleansing touch of Will. “It’s okay. It’s okay now…I wanna go home, Will. Don’t you want to go home, Will?” he stumbled to his feet, trying to pull Will up, bare feet braced against the floor. “Why’s Hannibal yelling?” He didn’t like the sound of that, and was sure it was bad news. Lex’s voice was bright and glaring, and Hannibal’s voice a deep, churning gray-green.  


The voices seemed to grow louder, and the sounds of them getting angrier and angrier scared him.  


_Will’s voice was as bright blue as a summer sky over sea dunes, a flash of shining truth in the damp gray tones of the courtroom. Lex’s fingers beat out a slow, impatient tattoo, the way he would before he showed Jonathan how wrong he was, how wrong exactly. Whenever Lex did that, Jonathan wanted to rock and keen or curl into a ball and cry, say he was fibbing, he was so sorry, he would be a good boy now, he would._

_Will was not afraid. He’d testified before, and when Lex’s lawyer simpered and snarled by turns, Will responded so quickly and evenly that Jonathan felt safely grounded, so proud that Will understood he was telling the truth that Jonathan wanted to stand up and cheer. Will did not use words like “good” or “evil”, or even “bad” to describe either Jonathan or Lex, and Jonathan was grateful._

_When they were let out for the day, Jonathan stayed close to Will as they pushed through the crowd of reporters, holding tight to him to focus away from the flamboyant costumes of Freddie Lounds that he knew he was not allowed to touch. And that day, they'd kissed for the first time._

Will uncurled from Jonathan and put his finger to his lips before standing. He pulled on his shirt and buttoned it up as he went to the hallway to see what the ruckus was about. 

Will caught Hannibal’s silhouette leaving as the front door slammed shut. It was a whirlwind when he felt his head slam into the wall beside him. His ears rang and he tried to block the next blow but it came low, hard into his ribs.

Dropping to his knees, Will tried to swipe Lex’s legs with his own. A foot landed on his left leg with a searing blunt pain. He cried out and reached for an accent table leg, pulling it down onto Lex’s legs. 

Scrambling away on his hands and knees, Will got to the living room and slammed the door shut. He slumped against it and tried to keep all his weight there. “Jon, run. The window. Try-” The door broke from the latch and struck Will’s back with a thud. All air escaped his lungs. And again. “Run!” he said with a wheeze. 

Jonathan sat up, hoping Will would come back, and Hannibal. He heard the sound of somebody leaving–Hannibal? Why was he leaving? Hannibal was Will’s friend! Hannibal was Jonathan’s friend! He promised he was! 

Lex moved like a demon, and Will fought him, hurt as he was. Jonathan wanted to fight, too, wanted to help Will, but he crouched there as though rooted to the ground. He knew he abandoned Will once, and he wouldn’t leave Will this time. Jonathan Tylan was not a coward. 

Jonathan _Graham_ wasn’t, either.

* * *

Will screamed for Jon to leave him there to face Lex, but it did no good. Just as he managed to yell one last order, the endured another crack. Will just escaped the door by rolling away as it landed where he just was.

He crawled across the room when he felt a hot weight on his back and pinning him down. Lex’s breaths were flames on his neck and he felt the hard threat pressing against his rear. Thrashing, Will flung his head back but just missed.

Lex stared at Jonathan as he pinned his new toy to the rug. “See this? See your hero? Can’t even fight back like a real man. No wonder you chose him. Reminds you of yourself.”

Will dug his fingers into the rug and tried to drag himself out from under Lex. “Run Jon! Get Jack.” Will’s face was pinned to the rug, hands on his belt.

“There was really no point re-dressing, was there?” Lex tugged Will’s pants down and got to work on his own. “I think I’ll burn these clothes. Whoever dressed you has terrible style.”

Will’s heart raced, his eyes pleading with Jon just to get out of there. And then a white-hot pain seared through him. He grunted in sheer agony, unable to even cry. 

The only thing on his mind was Jon. Jon had to go. This could be him too. This needed to be stopped.

Jonathan couldn’t seem to look away, his voice a pathetic, frightened croak, shrieking something incomprehensible, crying for Lex to stop, please, leave him alone, get away! . Lex was hurting Will, hurting him worse, and Jonathan was just standing there. Will was too small to fight Lex, he was trapped. Lex was a big man, and Jonathan was so much smaller than Will, Will ground into that hideous navy damask rug that Jonathan’d seen up close so many times.

He stumbled out of the room, hoping Will had brought him enough time to find a phone, find a way out, remembering how Lex taunted him with the idea of newer, better boyfriends, and how Will must be it, but he couldn’t be–Will was his special friend, Jonathan’s!

_“Maybe I’ll just go and look for a new boyfriend then who respects me more. I bet out there are other guys who love and obey me more than you do. You always try to upset me. How is it to imagine that I would kiss another man? That I would touch them and love them instead of you?”_

_“Hurts, D-Daddy.” Jonathan whimpered. “Hurts like poison. I can see it in my head, the way he’d look at you and you’d look back, a-an’ give kisses and little presents, an’ he’d always be in shape an’ do whatever you asked…please no, Daddy.”_

_“You should always think of those other men I could have instead of you before you fuck things up again”, Lex said to him, insistently, sneering. “Think of what I’d do with them in your place. Maybe that gives you more motivation to not act like a freakin’ dick all the time.”_

_“You’d have f-friendly sex with them…an’ let them outside…”_

_“That’s right, I would.”_

No. No, Lex was lying. Lex must have lied because he wasn’t nice to Will, not at all. Lex was a bad man and was hurting Will, and where was Jonathan? He listened for Lex, shifting his head from side to side to make sure Lex hadn’t followed him into the kitchen. Locks flickered like silver eyes around the kitchen–cupboard, refrigerator, freezer, closet. Jonathan knew Lex would want a hot meal, that’s why he hadn’t locked down anything else. Something twisted in Jonathan wanted to see if Lex had found his hidden stash of food scraps and crackers–no, hurry-hurry-hurry now.

 _“You just can’t get things straight, right?!”, he hissed, pressing his full body weight against the smaller guy. “All the time I have to listen to your pitiful stammering, you know how sick I am of that?!”_

_“Very sick, Lexie?” Jonathan asked, gasping for air. “Very…sick?”_

_“That’s the understatement of the year”, Lex snorted and finally stopped pressing Jonathan up against the wall, grabbing his arm and dragged him into the kitchen. He got a knife out of the drawer, pulling Jon’s sleeve up. “Look closely, cry-baby”, he told him, sinking the tip of the blade down into his soft flesh, causing blood drops to gush out around it as he started to carve his name into the boy’s wrist. “For every new thing you’ll screw up you’ll get one of them. But I assure you, next time I won’t be cutting myself. It’s like back in school. Write 100 for times ‘I shall not wail’… it’s a lesson!”_

The knives were fine and even, moderate quality albeit with a frightening amount of dust–Lex’d be so angry if they weren’t clean, he thought, swallowing memories down again, twisting as bile. Jonathan grabbed the one that fit quickest into his hand, limping back to the living room with a hopskip gait that Will must hear, Lex must hear, for all his attempted quiet. 

Lex was a very large target, and Jonathan pressed himself close, the knife not stabbing but slashing-sawing-floundering, and he didn’t know where Will was anymore, and there was a certain illusion that he was cutting Will out of Lex, blood and viscera spewing, seeping. 

Will needed to scream. The agony was too much. But nothing came out as he opened his mouth. Nothing but a pathetic sob that drew a laugh from the man thrusting deep into him. He could no longer think of Jonathan. He could no longer hear the world around. It was just Lex. 

“God, even Jonathan can scream better than that.” 

Those were the last words when Will was crushed beneath Lex’s large form. Will wheezed and tried not to cry at the sheer agony he was enduring. The limp body above him was almost suffocating. 

Blood? Will could smell copper. A hot liquid ran over his whole body and for a moment he’d thought Lex had killed him. 

But then the realisation struck. Lex was dead, instead. 

“H-Hannibal?” That was who it had to be. Jonathan was long gone, now. He had to be. 

Jonathan let out a peep from where he lay, half stuck to Lex’s left shoulder. Lex was dead. He didn’t believe Lex could even be hurt, but here he was, cold and smelly and still. A run of feces traced around Jonathan’s toes, cooling to ice as it touched, and the small man jumped. 

“Will?” he heard Will asking for Hannibal, and a pathetic, sick feeling settled in his stomach. It was just like Hannibal said, Will didn’t want Jonathan anymore. Only Lex wanted him, and he’d killed him. 

It took Will what felt like an hour and all his effort to push Lex’s dead body from his back. And still he lay in the growing pool of thick, viscous blood. He felt listless, like his fight or flight instinct had just been fucked out of him. He wanted to go home to his dogs. He wanted to be the dead and fading memory of a fucked up life. 

Instead, he sat up with a low sob. His body was black and blue from his beating. “J-Jon?” 

Jonathan nodded, reaching out to try and hug Will. “Will? Will? Safe, Will?” his voice sounded like it was made of porcelain. His poor Will, was all bruised, all hurt. Would Will blame him for being hurt by Lex? 

“He hurt you, an’ I found a knife, and I just wanted to make him stop, Will, I want to go home, please Will. You’re all hurt…” Jonathan didn’t know what to say, he just felt dirty. 

Will looked blankly at Jon, like he couldn’t see him. “Jack. You need to call- call Jack.” He tried to reach for his phone in his pocket, but his body hurt so much he couldn’t. “My phone. You need to-to do it. Tell him what I say, okay?” 

Will swallowed back his burning bile and blood. “Tell him me and Hannibal came here to talk. Tell him Lex asked for favours. Tell him Hannibal argued with him and left, angry.” Will turned away in time to cough hard. “Then tell him the truth. That Lex attacked me. That I can’t stand.” 

Jonathan found Will’s phone, poking around until he found Jack’s number and called him. “Jack? Jack? Will and Hannibal came to Lex’s house. Lex asked for favors. Will got hurt. Hannibal argued with Lex. Hannibal left. He was angry. Lex was angry. He attacked Will. Will can’t stand.” he looked up at Will, waiting for what he was supposed to say next. 

He looked over at Lex, thinking of what would happen next. Would they understand it was to help Will, that Lex was a bad man? 

“Tell him I killed Lex for self-defense,” Will said. They had to lie. He couldn’t think right. A lie had to fix this. Everything hurt. 

Jack was already tracing the call when Hannibal burst into his office looking disheveled. 

“J-J-Jack, Lex is dead. Will had to kill him ‘cause he hurt Will. Hurt…hurt in the bad way.” Jonathan was scared to say _raped_ , it would make it too _real _. It was wrong to be so _real_. __

_____ _

_____ _

As he talked, he tried to pull Will to the sofa, get him to lie down. He could keep a few wits around him, and he knew Will needed to be cared for. 

“There’s locks on the doors and windows. I don’t know how to open them.”

Hannibal was fussed over by the others in the office as Jack listened to Jonathan’s recount. The moment Jack knew enough, he ordered Hannibal to lead them to Lex’s place. He reassured Jonathan that they would be there as fast as possible and ordered him not to touch anything. 

Hannibal hid the smile inside impossibly well. No one could tell that he felt this was a win. All he had heard was that Will had fought and won against Lex. He didn’t know the truth. Not yet. 

Will drew himself up onto the couch and tried to right himself. His whole body felt weak. Everything hurt. And all he wanted to do was redo the last few months. That first day in court felt a lifetime ago. What did he do that day he could do and avoid being hurt like this? He wanted to cry, but nothing came. He simply stared at the body laying there like a vulgar reminder of his greatest sin. 

Jack broke through the front door and rushed in. Hannibal hung back to admire the mess in the hall. An overturned table, a missing door… but then he stepped into the living room and it was suddenly clear his plan had failed. Will sat pale grey and bloody, his belt undone. The large corpse lay there with his pants around his ankles and stab wounds from behind. 

William had not killed this man. 

Jonathan didn’t like waiting for Jack. He didn’t like the smell of Lex’s clay, and he didn’t like seeing Will so weak and pale and quiet. He wished Will would lie down already, he could relax then. In the kitchen, he found towels, heating water till it steamed and wrinkled his fingers, singing to keep himself sane and even. 

He put the few herbs he was allowed near in the hot towels to make child’s poultices, coming close to Will and offering them up with the stale crackers he found. If Will didn’t want to be touched, didn’t want to eat, he understood. Jonathan just wanted to take care of him, too. 

It was an medium-odd crime scene that met Jack. Tylan hovering around Will, refusing to look at the body nearby, Graham still as a pointer as they sat together on the horsehair sofa. And the piteous hum of the boy rocking slowly, 

_Have mercy upon me, upon me_  
_Blot out my transgressions_  
_Purge me with hyssop_  
_And I shall be clean_  
_Wash me_  
_Wash me_  
_And I shall be whiter than snow…_

Hannibal knew he shouldn’t disturb a crime scene, but his curiosity had paid off in the strangest way. He didn’t know what to think for the first time in a long time. He felt like the young man walking in on Aunt Miyazaki and that filthy pig of a Nazi. A once-familiar fire boiled up in his chest. 

“William?” Hannibal glanced between the filthy corpse and Will before he stepped over it and approached Will.

Will’s mind had gone elsewhere. He was stood in the stream, the cold water racing around him. The bitter wind lapped at his skin. No fishing rods, no Wendigo. Just himself and the pain.

Hannibal knelt before Will but garnered no change. “How long has he been like this, Jonathan?” He felt something bad in his gut, like the bitter sting of failure. Will was supposed to be stronger for what he’d been through. But it seemed Lex had proven the stronger beast. “Jonathan,” he said, “What happened when I left?”

“L-long time.” How was he supposed to know, without a watch or a clock in the house, except on the stove? Jonathan tried to growl or hiss at Hannibal, warning him off. “Lex hurt him. Will told me to run. _I_ wasn’t a coward. Lex clawed his back. He hurt Will, took his…” he tried to think of a better way of phrasing what had happened “… _honor_. I hurt Lex who hurt Will.” he repeated the angered sound, pulling his feet up onto the couch so he was further away from the man who had _dared_ abandon the best man in the world. 

“Will told me to call Jack. He called for you, too. _You_ were gone.”


End file.
